Brotherband Chronicles: The Pirate Flotilla
by Princess-Contradiction
Summary: Can Skandia and its allies rally to stop a bloodbath? When Hal and the sailing crew of the Heron are captured and held for ransom, Erak, Stig, Thorn, Lydia, and the girl who saw them captured must go to Araluen to seek help. But is the crew truly only being held for ransom? And who masterminded such a cruel endeavor? Only time will tell. Disclaimer: WILL I EVER UPDATE? WHO KNOWS
1. Chapter 1: Morning Rider

The _Heron_ had been gone one more day than planned when the girl on the horse came pounding into Hallasholm.

Stig had been sitting on the cliff overlooking the harbor, hoping to be the first to spot his brotherband's return when he heard the unfamiliar tattoo of hooves riding toward the palisade. He jumped to his feet as he caught sight of the creature. It was galloping at a break neck speed-he'd never seen anything like it. A tall, blonde girl was on its back, hunch low over its neck. Behind them ran an unburdened horse, following without a rein that he could see.

Something in his gut twisted. Hal had told him that the village they had planned on visiting was unusual for its keeping of horses. "Gorlog's breath," he hissed, hoping against hope that this early morning rider was a mere coincidence. He jogged lightly towards the main square, hopping to meet the rider there.

Hal, Ingvar, Ulf and Wulf, Jesper, Stefan, and Edvin had sailed To the northern most coast of Skandia to offer help in redesigning some wolfships that resided there, at the request of an elderly shipwright who was fascinated by the sketches of the _Heron_ and the rumors of a fin that extended through the bottom of the ship into the water.

Hal had decided the fighting crew-Thorn, Stig, and Lydia-would be unnecassary for the three day trip. Stig had been grateful to be left ashore. For all that he enjoyed being with his brotherband and the distractions of sailing, thoughts of Tecumsa still preyed on his mind. Only now, nearly six months later, was he learning to accept these thoughts and work through them.

Thorn had been pleased to have some extra time with Karina, and Lydia thrilled to have a few days to do nothing but hone her hunting skills. She had immediately taken off for the mountains.

Stig arrived in the square only a moment before the horse came skidding across the hard packed earth. The girl slid gracelessly from the saddle, chest heaving, and called to him, "Where is the Oberjarl's hall?"

"What for?"

She merely shook her head and, still breathing heavily, slid to the ground. Stig hurried forward as people began to gather around, milling about in confusion. "Someone! Get Thorn! Tell him to meet us in the main hall." He hefted the girl's arm around his shoulders and hoisted her to her feet. With some surprise, he realized she was taller than he was.

"Thank you," she grunted. She gave a short, sharp whistle, and the two horses moved to walk beside them. She rested a hand on the closest, the pale roan she'd been riding.

Oberjarl Erak was just leaving for his morning walk when he was met by the rather strange sight of Stig dragging a half unconscious girl and two lathered horses.

"Oberjarl!" the young first mate called, "This girl-she needs to talk to you."

Erak hurried to them, sliding his arm around the young woman's back. While it had been quite some time since he had led the heavily athletic lifestyle aboard a wolfship, he was still strong; he lifted her with ease. The two men hurried to the hall, supporting the girl between them.

Upon reaching the entrance, they realized the horses were still on their heels. "Shoo!" Stig called, trying to keep them from following into the building. "Go on! Get!"

"These aren't trained like your dog," Erak huffed, "Come on, we've got to get this girl to lay down and get a drink of water."

The horses followed them into the hall. The men who ate and gambled paused their endeavors to stare at their Oberjarl hauling a girl to his sitting room with two rather large horses clopping along behind him. One man took a glance at the ale he had been about to finish and gently pushed it away from him. "Horses," he mutter to his plate of mutton, "I'm seeing horses."

After she was seated in a large leather arm chair (which Erak had liberated from Galicia in his youth), the girl gratefully accepted a water skin, sipping from it carefully. She seemed oblivious to the fact that her horses had followed her indoors. She patted them fondly as she attempted to ease the cramping in her legs.

"Well?" Stig asked, the twist in his stomach growing tighter with every passing second, "What is it?" Erak looked at the girl expectantly as well as she finished taking another sip.

She took a deep breath and grimaced. "It's the _Heron._ She's been captured."


	2. Chapter 2: Sewing Sails

Erak couldn't find his voice. Neither could Stig. The first mate felt as if someone had reached down his throat and grabbed the air from his lungs. This was not good.

The girl, her news delivered, rested against her horse's side and continued to drink from the waterskin.

"Thurak and Hergel," Stig hissed, "How? When? How could-"

The hall door opened and Karina and Thorn strolled in, Karina giggling from something quiet Thorn had whispered to her. The weighty atmosphere did not go unnoticed though, and the smiles soon dropped from their faces. "What is it? What's wrong?" Karina asked quickly moving to hover by Stig. The pain on his face sent a sliver of ice into her heart. "What's happened?"

Erak did his best to straighten. "It's the Heron."

Karina froze. "What?"

Thorn clenched his hand until his knuckles turned white, looking from Stig to Erak and back again.

A tired voice cut in. "I haven't quite told them yet. Is there anyone else we should bring in before I say anything else?"

"We should see if Lydia—" Thorn's rough voice broke, his throat dry with fear. "We should see if Lydia is back."

"I know she isn't—she would've stopped by," Karina stated, worried wrinkles weighing on her brow.

"Tell us now." Stig stepped forward, crossing his arms. "I've got to know," he breathed.

The girl took another swig of water. "I was down at the dock early. Bendin and I are close friends—the shipwright—so he lets me help him out in the morning. I'm sorry. Is there anything I could eat?"

Erak started. "Of course." He stuck his head down the hall and bellowed, "Bread! Now!"

The girl didn't wait for it to arrive, continuing in a weary voice. "I saw them on the horizon—small craft, I remember, but most of the town was up so we all ended up crowded along the pier. We're a small town, we don't get a lot of celebrities so there was no way anyone was staying away—"

"But what happened to the crew?" Stig urged, stepping forward. "Spit it out!"

"Don't be rude, Stig," Karina said, squeezing his shoulder. "She's telling us."

"Right." The weary blonde took another sip of water. "I noticed after a bit that they were travelling faster than they needed to. At first I thought they were showing off, but then I saw the second ship on the horizon. It was big, and painted black. Maybe dark green. Definitely a pirate's vessel. We grabbed our weapons and waited for the ships to sail in—it looked like the Heron would beat her and we were ready for a fight."

A boy hurried in with steaming bread on a plate and scurried away again. The girl took a moment to rip off a piece and eat it before continuing. "We should've known something was wrong when the pirates didn't just run—they usually do when they see they're out numbered. Three of the Heron's crew made it onto the pier before the pirates pulled in. The big one, with some kind of disks over his eyes—"

"Ingvar," Thorn breathed.

"Aye, him, he was yelling at us all to get back, but we didn't. And then five of the pirate crew leapt down. They each had a cross bow and they were just…aiming them into the crowd. A sixth got down and told the Heron that if they didn't cut the strings of the big bow in the front they'd kill everyone in the crowd."

"Did they do it?" Stig's heart was sinking lower and lower in his chest.

"Aye. The shorter one, with the darkest hair, he took out his saxe and sawed through the bow string without a moment's hesitation."

"Oh by the king, _Hal_ ," Karina sobbed, burying her face in Thorn's burly chest.

The girl looked at her, worried. "I'm so sorry, marm. I can wait to finish—"

"No," the Araluen woman brushed her tears away. "Please, continue."

"You won't like this," The girl warned. Karina gazed at her steadily until she went on. "Then the man without a cross bow—the captain, my guess—told the one who cut the bow, Hal, and the identical ones who were on the pier to get on his ship, and sent three of the men with cross bows to get on board the Heron. He said if the three on his ship acted up, they'd kill a person on the other ship and same the other way around. And if they didn't get on his ship right away, they'd start killing people in the crowd."

Karina let out a strangled sob and clutched both Thorn and Stig's hands. "They did it, didn't they?"

The girl gave a melancholy sigh. "Aye. Then the captain told us that our taxes would be going to him this year. He said he's going to ransom the crew; for every day it isn't paid, they kill one crew member."

"Gorlog's claws and teeth it can't be!" Erak hissed, his face red with rage. "Steal a good crew like that for _money_? By all the Gods, I hope they burn!"

Stig was taken aback. He hadn't realized how much the Oberjarl had liked his crew. "What do we do?"

"We get the money. They're pirates—all they want is gold," Thorn stated resignedly, "And we want our boys back."

"That's it?" Stig yelled, his voice gaining volume as he spoke, "We just let them wring us for money? We just let them trade my brotherband for _gold_? This is Hal we're talking about! And Ingvar, and Ulf and Wulf, and Edvin, and Stefan, and Jasper! We can't just let them be held out there! We have to go _get_ them!"

"And risk their murder when the pirates spot our wolfships?" Karina's tearful eyes looked up at him. "I want my son back. No matter the cost—be that money or pride."

"Did they say how much?" Erak asked, his voice suddenly weary—he felt too sick to be wrathful any more.

"Well—I mean, sort of."

Erak just looked at her.

"All they said was 'Double the Oberjarl's.' Do you know what they meant?"

Erak buried his face in his hands and groaned. "Thorn, get Svengal and Borsa. We'll need to consult."

Any curiosity was stifled by the somber mood.

"What's your name, girl?" Erak asked, watching the messenger devour the loaf of bread.

"Ingrid, Oberjarl. Ingrid Oldotir."

"How long were you riding?" Stig asked, eyeing the horses as Ingrid made a trough with her hands and filled them with water from the skin, letting first the white roan and then the dark spotted horse drink.

"Three days. The overland route is faster, but no one rides horses so no one uses it. No one except our village."

"Thank you for telling us," Karina said. "Once we're done here, you're welcome to stay with me. I have an eating house you're also welcome to."

Ingrid gave a slow nod of thanks, wiping her hands on her breeches. "Thank you, ma'am."

Thorn returned with the two men. Svengal, Erak's former first mate and current skirl of his beloved ship _Wolfwind_ , looked as if he hadn't been sleeping at all, even though he was in his night clothes. The administrator, Borsa, on the otherhand, was rumpled and shuffled in more slowly, squinting into the dim light of the hall.

"Borsa, what percent of taxes have come in so far?" Erak asked, drumming his thick fingers on his knee.

Instantly, the hilfman was awake. "Well, let's see." He shuffled off to a desk a pulled a small black leather book from a drawer, flipping it open and letting his finger hover over the page. "With the last of Utzman's, about twenty percent of what we can expect by the end of the year."

Erak smashed his fist onto the arm rest of the chair. "We can't pay the ransom."

Stig started up indignantly. "What do you mean we can't? Didn't you just say we had to or they'd die?"

"It's not that I don't want to," Erak qualified, grinding his teeth together, "It's that we physically cannot. There is no way that we can get all the money we would need by the time the pirates arrive, which I expect will be sometime tomorrow. Even if we did have everything in, I'm still not sure there'd be enough."

"Ransom?" Svengal asked, laying a hand on his saxe as if he expected the kidnappers to leap in and demand their money any moment. "Ransom for who?"

Borsa seemed to go pale. "How much?" he asked, a small amount of fear evident in his voice.

"They've got the Heron." Svengal's hand dropped from his belt and he cursed. Borsa drew his robe tighter around him. "They want eighty thousand reels of gold."

Borsa went weak at the knees. He stumbled to the desk and began shuffling through his papers.

"Is that what double the Oberjarl meant?" Ingrid asked.

"A while ago, if anyone remembers, I was captured and held for a forty thousand ransom, so yes, that's what it meant."

Ingrid whistled. Karina was very pale.

"So what do we do?" Thorn asked, his voice gruff.

"We get help," Svengal said. "I'll put on some pants and wake up the crew. The Oberjarl can decide who else comes along."

Erak stood up abruptly. "We can't. Not again."

"We've got no choice," Svengal countered. "Besides, Araluen owes those boys as much as we do, maybe more. They rescued those slaves from the Socorran slave market and saved the princess's life from those assassins."

Erak crossed his arms stubbornly. "I don't-"

"We can't get those boys back on our own," Svengal said. "They're heroes. You and I both know it. The least we can do is ask for some help."

Erak pondered a moment, recalling the deeds of the now infamous _Heron_. "Fine. Get the ship stocked and prepared to sail. We can delay the pirates some—if the Oberjarl isn't here, they can't demand ransom. They'll have to follow us to Araluen, and we'll be on the best ship in the seas."

Svengal grinned at him. "Aye, Oberjarl. Won't hurt ye to have the deck back under your boots." He strolled out to wake the crew.

Erak turned to the remaining group. "We'll leave as soon as the ship is ready. Thorn, Stig, you'll be sailing with us. You too, Ingrid. Those rangers will want to know things I've forgotten to ask you."

"And what of me?"

Erak winced and turned slowly towards Karina. "Karina, I…Well, you see…it'd be very difficult. If you were to come."

"My son is out there," Karina whispered hoarsely, tears springing to her eyes. "My _son_. On some pirate ship, unarmed and held against his will."

Erak shifted uncomfortably. "I know."

"If I can't go to him you will bring him home to me, understand? Or I swear," She hissed, the venom in her voice belying the idea that there was any force stronger than a mother's love. "I _swear_ by all three of your Vallas that I will go out on my own, find my son, and slaughter any man who stands in my way." She took three sharp strides toward him. "Bring him home to me."

With that she turned and stormed from the hall, hands curled into white knuckled fists.

The room was silent for a moment. "Someone should fetch Lydia," Thorn finally muttered. "She'll kill us if we go rescue the boys without her."

"I'll go," Stig said quickly, "I'm faster than you."

"Have her pack up and meet us down at the docks as soon as she can." Thorn clapped a hand on the boy's shoulder. "It'll be just fine; you'll see."

As Stig left, Erak grasped Thorn's good hand. "You should go pack too, and say your goodbyes to Karina."

"Aye. I should. I'll see you in half an hour or so." The big man shambled away, looking for all the world like a great, angry bear.

Erak eyed the girl who was still resting on the shoulder of the white roan. "I suppose you don't have anything to pack."

"No; I'd rather sleep if that's alright with you," Ingrid responded blearily.

"I'll have some clothes put together for you from somewhere," Erak rubbed his chin and turned to go.

"Um," Ingrid called.

"Yes?"

"Are you sure I should come?"

Erak turned slowly. "Yes."

"A-alright then."

The Oberjarl looked Ingrid over carefully, wondering why she would question his orders. Finally, he added, "Take your horses out, will you? We have a small stable out back and I like my halls clean."

Ingrid glanced around, unsure if the hall could truly be marked under the 'clean' category. "Of course, Oberjarl. Right away."

Erak watched her stand stiffly and begin to lead the horses out of the small back door and then turned for the harbor. As he strutted through the main hall, he beckoned a serving girl. "Can you fetch some women's clothing for, say, a two month voyage? For a girl about half a head taller than you. Bring them to the girl who's stabling horses and then bring the girl to a bed."

The server nodded and strolled off to find what he'd asked.

Erak continued down to the harbor, where he saw his ever beloved _Wolfwind_ alive with preparation for the voyage. Ropes were being restrung, sails checked over painstakingly for any miniscule tear, and the body of the ship herself was being resealed and cared for. Supplies were being loaded on, from extra sail material to stores of jerky.

Svengal hailed him. "How goes it, Oberjarl?"

Erak loped down to meet him at the pier, grasping his forearm and surveying his progress. Load in on his ship had always been smooth; it was no different now. In about an hour the crew would be done with their present tasks and go home to eat and rest. Two hours before sunset, the crew would return, and an hour later the ship would be fully stocked with breads, fruits, vegetables, and water. When the sun dropped below the watery horizon Erak, his ship, and the remainder of the _Heron's_ crew would be gone from Hallasholm.

Erak would leave Borsa in charge temporarily; the skirls themselves would deal with any issues that weren't administrative.

Erak watched as his former first mate directed the various tasks and saw that he wasn't needed at all for the preparations. Once, that may have stung him, but now he was only slightly ruffled. He had already made the silent decision to relinquish his position as acting skirl. While _Wolfwind_ would always be his ship, the crew were Svengal's now. Mayhap he'd take a turn or two at the tiller, if just to feel the salted breeze on his face again.

Silently he strode off towards the mountain path he knew Stig would've taken to fetch Lydia. When he reached the trail head he gave a nostalgic sigh. The last time he'd put much thought to this path was when a certain princess and ranger's apprentice had been struggling up it in the snow, with one small pony.

To think of how that pair had grown up. To think of how _he_ had grown up. So many years had passed, but the path looked just the same.

"We change but the Earth does not," he sighed, staring up to the mountain top and to the stars beyond.

At the sound of clattering stones he turned his attention back to the path. It was Lydia her long legs eating up the ground in front of her. Erak could barely make out Stig behind her. He held up a hand to slow the Limmatan girl.

"He told you?"

Lydia was red faced, her chest heaving. Normally, Erak qould attribute this to exertion, as she had just run down a mountain, but he knew she was incredibly fit. He knew what they were truly symptoms of: rage.

"Yes." Her voice was tight and curt.

"We'll leave an hour before sunset. Go home, pack, and rest." As she walked past he almost reached out to touch her shoulder but thought better of it. "I can think of no one better to help us get your friends back."

She halted for a moment and gave a stiff, awkward nod of thanks before jogging off again. Erak could no longer hear her footsteps when Stig reached him. He was only slightly out of breath, which amazed the Oberjarl. If he attempted that run in one night he'd be dead by dawn.

"I've never seen her so angry," Stig puffed in awe, shaking out his shoulders.

"She feels powerless. It's a grating feeling. We all understand it."

The young man gave a grim nod. "Yeah. I'm off to pack. See you in a few hours, Oberjarl."

Erak realized that he, too, should go gather everything he'd need, including the gold and silver he could afford to take from the coffers.


	3. Chapter 3: Course in the Night

_Author's note: Thank you to everyone who's reading! I've been creeping on my stats cuz and shoutout to the reader from Denmark-I like you, my main man._

 _Also, thank you so much for reviews, and follows/favorites! Anytime I get a notification email I grin like a dweeb. Special points to Will Turner, BlackShaftedArrow, and Ranger nr. 7 for their reviews. Especially you Ranger nr. 7. Ten out of ten on Ranger nr. 7, would recommend to a friend._

 _The next chapter will be up September 16th._

 _Away we go, folks._

* * *

Hal had never felt so cold in all his life. And it wasn't just because of the icy wind and spray whipping across his face.

He and his brotherband had faced danger and death many times but never before had Hal felt so icy cold with fear. Peril had always occurred in the heat of battle or in the moments afterward. Never had they been captured and held by their enemies. Enemies who, Hal was terrified to think of, they did not know and had never seen but still had known about the Mangler.

The form of the captain was still at the helm, his face creased with shadows from the lanterns. The was tall and wiry, head shaven bare. His skin was dark, almost as black as his ship, and his teeth flashed in the lamp light when he spoke to his crew. He was older than any of the Heron's brother band but certainly younger than Thorn. If Hal had to guess, he'd say he was a touch older than Ranger Gilan-the captain certainly exhibited the same confidence.

Even after three days, Hal had never heard the man's name. His crew merely called him 'Captain' and he had never addressed his prisoners. That was what truly scared Hal. They were being treated as livestock; fed well enough, given no beds, and given no demands. Hal had not been asked any questions, hadn't been threatened. He hadn't even been properly looked at in the past three days.

He, Ulf, and Wulf were tethered by their ankles to the main mast of the pirate ship _Wavestalker_ and so sat shivering and sleepless amid ships. The three sat close together for warmth, speaking rarely and then only in whispers. Hal's uneasiness was only made worse by the stiff silence.

He stared into the darkness off the starboard side of the ship where he knew the _Heron_ and the rest of his brotherband sailed. He could see just two specks of light from the lanterns the enemy bowmen had lit.

"Can you see them?"

Hal started and turned to see both twins looking off as he had been. "No," he murmured back after a moment, "Only the bowmen."

Ulf let out a snort of derision. "Like three pirates with crossbows could really stop us if we wanted to get away."

"Yeah but 'we' are now 'us' and 'them'. That's the whole problem, dimwit." Wulf hissed back.

It spoke to the gravity of the situation that Ulf only rolled his eyes in response.

Hal smiled a bit. "If Stefan was here he'd imitate the Captain's voice and send the whole ship into a frenzy."

Wulf snickered. "Ingvar would just flatten all of them."

Ulf elbowed his brother. "Jesper would've cut us out these ropes with some tiny knife already and then slunk off the ship, all focused, like this." He screwed up his face like Jesper did when he was messing with his locks.

Hal felt his grin slip from his face. "But it's just us."

Ulf grimaced, "Right."

"Right," his twin echoed.

The moment passed, and only the creaking of the ship and the gentle slap of waves on the bow remained.

* * *

Stefan could clearly see the three who were tied to the mast, surrounded by lanterns as they were. Kloof was sitting silently next to him; he looked away, but she did not.

"Don't stare too 'ard," one of the guards said, sidling up behind him, his breath stinking of the wine the Iberians favored. "You may be able to see zem, but zey may as well be miles away," he chuckled.

"What are they doing now?" Ingvar called, uncowed by the guards. He was considerably larger than all three of them, and they were wary of him for it. They were well aware that if there weren't captives on the other ship he could kill them in a heartbeat.

"Sitting. Talking. Staring over here now and then," Stefan called back, eyeing the guard as if challenging him to shut him up.

The bowman turned away with a snort.

Unlike their counterparts, the crew that remained on the _Heron_ was free to move as they wished. They were gathered around the helm, sprawled in a semi-circle around Edvin, who was gripping the tiller. It was odd that it wasn't Hal steering them through the night. Edvin was staring intently ahead; soon it would be Jesper who spelled him. Silence stretched between the crewmates.

"What are they doing now?" Ingvar asked again, squinting into the night.

Stefan glanced over. "They're still sitting like they were-there's no use checking every few seconds."

"Well I can't look for myself, even with these on." He held up the turtle shell disks. "It'd be a lot less intrusive if I could just glance over every now and then."

"Gorlog, I wish Hal were here!" Edvin burst out, grinding his teeth. Kloof turned her head to stare at the normally calm boy, the surprise in her face mirrored by the rest of the crew.

Jesper raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I don't think I've ever heard you curse, Edvin."

"Well, this seemed like a pretty good time for it."

"I agree with that," Ingvar grunted miserably, twisting the leather thong of his spectacles absent mindedly.

"He'd be planning a way for us to get away from them. He'd know exactly how to get them off that ship and back here," Edvin sighed again.

"I wish Stig was here. And Thorn and Lydia," Stefan muttered, glancing back to where their guards were huddled in the stern of the ship. "We can do anything if we're all together."

"Which means these pirates are pretty smart; I didn't like how that captain promised one of us would die for every day ransom isn't paid." Edvin frowned. Kloof moved to lay around his feet, her eyes still trained on the pirate ship where she knew Hal was being held.

"He sounded serious," Jesper agreed.

"Did you see the girl with the horses though?" Stefan asked. "She was riding away as soon as those pirates hit the pier."

"Really?" Ingvar asked.

"You mean you didn't see that?" The other three shook their heads. "She was at the back of the crowd, with two horses. When they pointed their crossbows at the townsfolk, she mounted up and galloped away." He kept his voice low. "The pirates must've missed her cuz she got away clean. And she was riding towards Hallasholm."

Ingvar grinned. "She went to warn them. When we get there, they'll have a plan already." He pounded Stefan's back heartily, beaming. "We haven't lost a thing yet."

His optimism was contagious. If the Oberjarl and their families already knew, there was no way they wouldn't get out of this. Even Kloof seemed to perk up, wagging her tail as the boys grinned at one another.

"Take the tiller will you, Jesper? I think we deserve some hot coffee and a nice stew," Edvin stated, heading for the stores once Jesper was steady; the thief was relatively new to steering, and knew that if he strayed out of sight of the _Wavestalker_ Hal and the twins would be hurt. He kept his eyes trained on the pirate ship and the pirate ship alone, adjusting to stay with it.

He did not notice when they began to turn south instead of east.

All seven captives remained wrapped in their thoughts of escape and safety that no one, not even Hal, noticed when their course shifted.

They were no longer sailing for Hallasholm.


	4. Chapter 4: Change on the Waves

_Special shout out to my new bestie Rangernr7 for reminding me! I've been swamped with college nonsense._

 _Also: this one's short; sorry 'bout it._

When Hal awoke the next morning his internal compass knew immediately they were not sailing for home. The sun, however, was obscured entirely by clouds and he had not studied the stars at all the night before. Hal simply did not know what course they were taking. Were they sailing for a slave market? It was possible. He knew pirates rarely kept any promises. Perhaps they planned on demanding ransom after selling the crew off; a double profit.

He woke up the twins with a couple of gentle elbows to the ribs. "We're not sailing for Hallasholm anymore."

"What?" Ulf (or maybe it was Wulf) muttered groggily.

"I said we're not sailing for Hallasholm like the Captain said we would be."

The twins were suddenly serious. "Are you sure?" Wulf (or maybe Ulf) murmured, glancing around the ship where silent crewmen worked.

"Of course he's sure," his brother hissed, "Otherwise he wouldn't have said anything."

"Alright," Wulf retorted, "Then where are we?"

"Either heading toward Gallica or Teutlandt...but why?" Hal mused absentmindedly.

"South, right?" Ulf asked, adopting the same tone as Hal.

"Yeah, south, genius," Wulf quipped, "Those are the countries to the south. Nothing else is over there."

"Nu uh, Skorghijl is closer."

"Well who-"

"That's it!" Hal cried. The crew turned, surveying the trio with interest. Hal lowered his voiced hurriedly, "Skorghijl, that's exactly our course. Nicely done, Wulf."

"I'm Ulf," Ulf corrected, beaming at this twin.

"Right right. But still, why would we stop there? The summer gales are nowhere near starting." Hal stared off into the ocean as if hoping that the answer was swimming among the waves.

Wulf, bitter for his twin's victory, glanced around and quickly leaned in close to the other two. "The captain's staring at us." He nodded his head to the man, who leaned casually against the ship's railing.

Hal studied the Captain from the corner of his eye for a moment.

"He gives me the creeps," Ulf whispered, staring at the tall figure openly. "What do you think of him, Hal?"

Hal didn't respond for a moment. Then, he rolled his shoulders and murmured, "Hold on," before calling out in Common, "Captain, why are we sailing for Skorghijl?"

The ship seemed to go abnormally silent. The crew slowed their tasks, if they had them. Those doing nothing watched their captain with interest.

The captain seemed to measure Hal for a moment. "Noticed, did you?" The man called back in perfect Skandian. His voice was low, but not raspy like most sea captains-a quality they obtained after yelling above storm winds. Even Hal was beginning to develop the distinctive crackle. This man's voice was smooth and dark, like obsidian.

"We did," Hal affirmed coolly in Skandian, hiding his surprise effectively. "There are no storms. You can only ransom us in Hallasholm. Why the island?"

The captain stared at the three captives in turn-each clearly nervous but not at all cowed. He sighed internally; it'd been awhile since he met anyone with a solid backbone. Pirates typically came without them. "If you must know, we've a scrape along the water line on the starboard side. I won't sail a damaged ship into enemy territory."

Hal frowned in thought; he had felt none of the drag such damage usually caused.

"Content with my answer?" the captain asked.

Hal was not, but something in the man's too easy manner told him not to push the issue. He gave a slow nod.

The captain flashed a toothy grin and strode off. He stopped by a small group of men who were dicing under the shade of the main sail, waiting to take their turn as lookout. "If the boy has another revelation, tell me."

The crew glanced over at the trio of captives, who were whispering together once more. Okonkwo, a short, thick man, stroked the scar that ran along his cheek. "And if he asks anymore questions?"

"Let him be." The warning tone was clear.

"Of course, Captain."

The man continued on to take the wheel from his stand-in. He did not miss the fact that Okonkwo soon pulled out of the dice game and settled against a bulwark to stare at the captives.

For a moment, he wondered what on earth he had dragged his crew into with this scheme. Who knew if they could even pull it off?

With a sigh, he checked his course and steered them onward through the waves.


	5. Chapter 5: Morning Sailors

Lydia was incredibly irritable. She was, truly, thrilled to be sailing off. It felt like she was doing something for her friends aboard the _Heron_. As soon as they landed in Araluen they would see the king, get a ransom, and her friends would be back. But, in the meantime, she was miserable.

There was nothing for her to _do_ aboard the _Wolfwind_. She could banter with any of her crewmates aboard the _Heron_. They placed bets, talked about the sun and stars, watched waves and wildlife. Sometimes, when sailing was smooth, one of the boys would teach her a bit about his task. On the _Wolfwind_ she may as well have been a sack of potatoes. Thorn was in constant conference with Svengal and Erak, so she had no one to tease. Stig was talking to the crew easily, comparing battle scars and fighting techniques. The gap of experience between her and the men of Svengal's crew was too much for her to even attempt talking to them-she had not grown up in Hallasholm; she was Limmatan, not Skandian; and, most of all, she was a girl.

It also stung her to know that if there was a fight, she probably wouldn't be needed-her expertise with her atlatl meant little to these men who preferred the ax and club.

Above all this, though, were the horses. The girl who had brought the news, Ingrid, had brought her horses along, with the Oberjarl's permission. They were penned in the middle of the ship and they were driving Lydia insane.

Lydia had never particularly liked animals. She respected them, in the unique way only hunters did, but she had never enjoyed an animal's presence, possibly barring Kloof, who Lydia felt carried her own weight on the ship.

The horses just reeked. They smelled of sweat and manure, and every now and then they would let out a high pitched whinny that made Lydia want to stuff her knit cap into their mouths.

Lydia's dislike of the horses had not gone unnoticed by Ingrid. It had only been about twelve hours aboard the wolfship but Ingrid was pretty sure that if someone didn't get the tall, dark haired girl to unwind she was clearly going to snap. And possibly kill Ingrid's horses.

The thought of that did not make Ingrid very happy.

"That's Cheek."

"What?" Lydia turned to look at her, startled.

"The darker horse that you've been having a staring contest with. His name is Cheek. The white roan is Snowdrift-she's a fair sight nicer than Cheek." Ingrid studied Lydia's face. "Want to meet them?"

"I, uh…" Lydia wasn't used to other girls approaching her so directly. "I don't really...like horses."

Ingrid chuckled. "I'd noticed, considering you've been glaring at my poor animals for the majority of the trip. They're smart though-our horses always have been." She pulled held up an apple and cut it in half, tossing the pieces to Lydia and calling, "Come on, then," as the other girl caught them.

Ingrid gently opened the gate to the picketed enclosure, fending Cheek away from escape as Lydia followed after her reluctantly.

"Put one half of the apple in each hand and feed it to them."

Lydia stared at the other girl for a moment. "I don't...I don't have horses."

"O..kay. Here." She took the apple halves. "Flatten your hands out perfectly, yeah, just like that." She placed the apple halves on Lydia's open hands and led her to the horses. "They're funny when they eat-it'll definitely feel strange, but try to hold still."

Lydia tentatively held out her hands to the horses and almost leapt back when they descended on her but managed to keep still as she was told. She cracked a smile at the tickling of their muzzles on her palms and simply grinned when the spotted horse, Cheek, nibbled on the loose folds of her shirt for more. "He is a bit demanding," she commented, watching as Ingrid gave each of them another apple.

"Just wait till you see him on land-he throws tantrums just like any kid when he doesn't want to do something," Ingrid added, smiling. "Come on, he won't stop patting us down unless we keep feeding him and there are only so many apples."

Lydia followed the blonde out of the picket, feeling distinctly un-bored for the first time on their voyage. She wondered why she hadn't thought to talk to the only other girl on board. In truth, she knew why; most girls her age either despised the fact that she got to spend so much alone time with the infamous Herons (she'd like to put them on a ship with unwashed boys for a few weeks and see how attractive they seemed then) or couldn't fathom her desire for adventure and activity. Hunting wasn't very popular for teenage girls, even in Skandia.

"So," Lydia cleared her throat, mostly to distract herself from her lonely thoughts, "How long have you had them? Your horses, I mean."

"They're both three. Got 'em as a gift on my fourteenth birthday; I'd been riding my mother's horses mainly up until then. Have you ever ridden?"

Lydia shook her head. "Rode in a carriage once, back home, but never on horseback."

"A carriage in Hallasholm? Really? I'd never have thought it."

"Oh, no, no, back in Limmat; it's a city-state, technically a part of Teutlandt but not really." Lydia gave a smile as she thought of the lush forests of her home town. "It's where I met the Herons; they were hunting pirates, and the pirates had raided and taken the city." There she frowned. "It was awful. But, with their help, we drove them off."

Ingrid wrinkled her forehead in thought. "Why did you stay with their crew, then?"

Lydia shrugged. "I didn't have any ties to home anymore. My grandpa died in the first attack, and I didn't have any close friends, except for the Herons. So I left."

Ingrid's face remained somber. "My sorrow for yours."

"Thank you."

Their thoughtful silence was filled with the low rumble of men's voices and the creaking of the ship.

"I guess that means you want to help them even more," Ingrid stated, staring blankly out into the ocean.

Lydia gave another non-commital shrug. Discussions of feelings were not her strong point. "Not as much as Stig. Or Thorn. Stig grew up with Hal and the rest, and Thorn treats them like sons he never had."

Ingrid just nodded, chewing on her bottom lip and not looking at Lydia. "They don't seem worried; just in a hurry to get to Araluen."

Lydia looked out at the water as well, choosing her words carefully. "We're all worried." Ingrid glanced at her, curiously. "It's like, if we don't speak about how scared we are, we can pretend we aren't. We can pretend we're just angry and itching for a fight and not terrified out of our minds that it'll be too late…" Lydia swallowed the lump in her throat and Ingrid heard her breath catch. "I don't know what I'd do without Hal."

Ingrid didn't know what to say. Instead, she laid her hand gently on Lydia's shoulder and the two girls sat in silence as the sun climbed upwards in the sky. Lydia glanced at her companion every so often, grateful for the supportive weight on her shoulder, but Ingrid was always staring out to sea, thoughtfully.

"Hello, girls." Thorn settled himself on the rowing bench next to them. "Not driving our horse girl mad are you, Lydia?"

Lydia rolled her eyes and shot back, "At least I'm not making _everyone_ mad with my stench."

"I'll have you know that I bathed just two weeks ago," Thorn huffed.

Lydia grinned in triumph. "Point proven."

"Besides, the two of you both smell like horses."

Ingrid grinned, enjoying the well practiced banter between the pair. "I took her to meet Cheek and Snowdrift-we fed them."

At that Thorn raised an eyebrow. "Getting cozy with the beasts, are we?"

Lydia prodded his shoulder. "One of those beasts may end up having to carry you, the poor creatures. Be respectful."

"Who'll be carrying Thorn?" Stig came to lean against the side of the ship. "Are you volunteering, Lydia?"

"No one carries me," the hairy man growled, turning his most terrifying scowl on Stig, "But I can carry you over the side of the boat."

Stig remained unruffled. "Well that's good; if I ever need a bath as badly as you do I'll be sure to ask."

Lydia laughed at Thorn's brooding, Ingrid grinning at the suddenly bright atmosphere.

"I just can't believe you actually ride horses," Stig continued, switching his focus to Ingrid, "I've never seen anyone in Skandia ride a horse. I certainly never have."

"Count that as a blessing boy," Erak sighed, his backside aching at the mere memory of the last time he'd ridden a horse.

Ingrid (who thought Stig hardly counted as a boy) chuckled, "Don't like horses much, Oberjarl?"

The big man grunted, watching idly as one of the younger sailors coiled rope. "The beasts themselves are fine; it's riding them I can't stand."

Ingrid nodded her head in deference "My mother is Araluen-horses are common there; her family raised them there."

Stig was surprised. "You're half Araluen?"

"Just like Hal," Thorn commented, eyeing the newcomer in a new light. She was incredibly blonde and blue eyed but, yes, maybe she was just a touch too willowy to truly be Skandian.

Ingrid shrugged. "I know I don't look it much, but it's true."

"Have you ever been to Araluen before?" Lydia asked.

"Nope," Ingrid shook her head, "We couldn't afford the travel when I was younger and now…" Something flickered in the girl's eyes. "Well, now we can't just pack up and leave, I guess." No one spoke for a moment. The sun glinted on the water. "I wonder how they are," Ingrid whispered.

No one asked who she was talking about. The _Heron_ occupied everyone's thoughts even as Skorghjil rested on the horizon-a tiny dot of land that no one spared a thought for.


	6. Apologies

I'm sorry. There will be no chapter currently; I'll try to publish one before the month is out.

I need this month to think about my country and how hateful it must be.

We shall overcome. You are valid, you are loved. If you need support in this time, feel free to message me.

Best thoughts to all,

Contra


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